


One Night In Heaven

by LucretiaD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Not Beta Read, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucretiaD/pseuds/LucretiaD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written on request.<br/>No smut until chapter 4 - slow build.<br/>Hoping I can write actual sexy stuff!<br/>Will re-commence after Giswhes x</p><p>Please be kind: I'm a reader, not a writer!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She regretted gulping down that glass of wine almost immediately. Not only were the prices extortionate in the hotel bar, they always were, but now she was starting to feel a little bit tipsy. She had no time to get a glass of water because now she had to dash to the next queue. Conventions: Crazy places! Still, this would be worth all the craziness because this was the one photo op she wanted most of all. The photo op that she couldn’t stop thinking about and, for the past few nights, had caused more than an acceptable amount of lost sleep.

In the last 24 hours she had managed to get six autographs (Mark, Travis, Ruth, Rob, Kim and Brianna), three photo ops (Mark, Ruth and Travis) and had also seen three panel talks. Most of her time this weekend had been spent queuing and getting sore feet, but she had met several wonderful friends from various Facebook groups and she was really enjoying herself, as was everyone. 

She found the correct queue almost immediately and was amazed to see there were only 50-60 people in front of her. She checked her watch; she was very, very early, but what a stroke of luck! Sitting down on the polished floor, she rested her back against the corridor wall and closed her eyes.

It was hot and crowded, noise was everywhere: the sounds of laughter, animated talking and plenty of “fangirling”. However, knowing that within the next two or three hours, she would be having her photo taken with her idol, the man she thought about almost every waking moment, she suddenly felt very detached from reality. A slight whistling in her ears made her smile, reminding her of angels. Lost in her thoughts, she began to daydream about her photo op. How would she react when she was finally in his presence; would she be able to make eye contact? She wasn’t so sure. Would he look as beautiful in real life? What would he be wearing? What would he smell like? Would she have the courage to ask for a hug? 

So many thoughts were rushing around her head that, when an announcement was made 40 minutes later, followed by the drone of disappointment, it took her a while to come back to reality. “Sorry guys,” announced a flustered looked marshal, “There’s been a change of plan”

Her head snapped up, what was happening? “I’m sorry everyone, but Misha Collins has been delayed,” shouted the marshal, trying to be heard over the buzz of moans and cussing, “But we’re trying to reschedule the photos ops for this evening, so please bear with us”. He walked away, shuffling through papers on his clipboard, with a harassed look on his face.

“Shit!” She cursed under her breath, and exhaled a crestfallen sigh, her heart sinking but wondering what the problem was. Looking around at everyone else picking up their bags and drinks, she wondered what to do next. Jensen and Jared weren’t appearing until tomorrow and it was too early for the karaoke party. She’d been waiting two days and now it was being postponed! Vowing to find out what had happened, she stood up, dusted off the back of her jeans and made a beeline for the coffee shop. 

When she finally got to the front of the queue – queues, so many Godamn queues! – she bought herself a cappuccino, found a vacant chair, then connected to the WiFi and logged into Facebook. She found a flurry of status updates from other attendees, all equally dismayed, disappointed and confused, but no hint of what the problem was.

Several minutes later, while sipping her creamy cappuccino, she overheard a group on the next table talking in hushed voices. She picked out the words “Misha” and “accident”, which immediately got her attention. Not usually one for making conversation with strangers, she hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Excuse me,” she asked, leaning over to the group, noticing they all looked serious, “but do you know what’s going on?” One of the group, a dark haired, tattooed girl replied. “Apparently,” she said in a hushed voice, “Misha’s car was involved in an accident on the way here and the driver was taken to hospital”

“Oh God, no!” 

“Not heard how bad it is, or even if it’s true. You know how rumours spread…?” she tailed off, before giving a small, apologetic smile and going back to her whispered conversation.

“Okay, thanks.” She replied, a knot of anxiety gripping her insides, dread filling her veins from the unknown. Picking up her coffee, she decided to head back to her room and gather her thoughts. The commotion in the hotel lobby was getting louder and louder, the temperature was rising, and she was starting to get a headache. With her purse slung over her shoulder and her drink in her hand, she headed off towards the elevators.

Halfway down the corridor she walked through a pair of glass doors and she sighed in relief as the noise instantly faded and the temperature cooled. She reached the elevators and pressed the button to go up to her floor. She was surprised that nobody else was around in this part of the hotel, but everyone else appeared to be milling around and speculating about the car crash. She found herself worrying again about Misha and hoped he hadn’t been seriously hurt. She decided to get to her room and finish her coffee before freshening up and returning to the ruckus. Hopefully she would find out some information then.

As the elevator chimed and the polished doors opened, she heard the bang of a door from further away, followed by hurried footsteps and excited chatter, then shouts of “Hold the elevator!” as she walked inside. She pressed the button to keep the doors open, then proceeded to search inside her purse until she found her keycard. 

“…it’s a fucking fuck up, that’s what it is!” she heard someone say as three men bundled into the elevator in front of her. She looked forward and froze, her eyes darting between the men who had joined her. Two of the men wore navy suits and were carrying bags and phones; possibly security. The third man had wonderfully unkempt brown hair, long legs in a pair of tight, dark blue jeans and a black, leather jacket which she instantly recognised. Oh my… Misha-fucking-Collins was just inches away and facing her! His full lips were luscious and pink, but there was a fresh cut on his lower lip, red and angry. She watched longingly as his tongue darted over it, leaving his mouth moist and inviting.

“Hi,” he said, smiling playfully as he noticed he was being stared at open-mouthed, then a heartbeat later “stop staring and please try to breathe!” Chuckling, his eyes met hers and she felt her heart pound in her chest and her face glow embarrassingly hot. His eyes were blue. So blue and so captivating that time seemed to pause just for a moment. 

“OhmyfuckingGod!” She blurted before her brain could stop her, her hand quickly clamped over her mouth, eyes wide, “Shit, sorry, fuck, oh God…” Being unable to keep eye contact any longer she lowered her gaze, “I heard there was an accident, are you… is everyone okay?” 

“Yes, I’m good thanks, the Merc is a bit fucked but I’m fine, everyone is fine, thank you. My God are you shaking?” He said, concern darkening his lightly-stubbled face, his head tilted slightly to one side and small creases between his eyebrows making him look so much like Castiel.

“Sorry, no, yes, just wine and coffee and no food,” she said nervously “… and I’m talking too much. W-what floor would you like?”

“Ladies first, always!” replied Misha, briefly glancing to the control panel before returning his gaze, his slender fingers hovering over the buttons. “We’re already late, so where are you heading?”

“Oh, okay, thanks, um six please” she said shakily, the whole encounter feeling surreal and ridiculous. She could sense him looking at her but she could only look at the lift walls, the floor and the other two men who were talking between themselves. She was trapped in an elevator with the man of her wildest dreams and fantasies, yet she couldn’t even bring herself to act like an adult!

“So you’re under me, then” smiled Misha, pressing the numbers six and seven then reaching out to steady her as the elevator jolted into life. Her eyes darted to his warm hand on her arm and she could not stop herself from grinning as her cheeks grew hot and her hearbeat thrummed in her ears. 

With a sudden rush of bravado she glanced upwards to see he was still looking down at her, his expression soft yet curious, a smile on his lips and small creases at the corners of his eyes. Misha let his hand drop to his side, appearing to study her face for a millisecond before turning to the men to discuss his rearranged schedule.

She blinked disbelievingly. What just happened? Was that… flirting? Staring at his back, her gaze naturally wandered down to his sensual, narrow hips and his perfectly shaped ass – and Hell, that ass was a thing of beauty - then down his long, inviting, muscular thighs. She prayed to God that the moan which escaped her lips wasn’t audible. 

When they reached the sixth floor the three men stood back while Misha gestured towards the open doors. Stepping out, she thanked them all and said goodbye, then made her way towards her room.

“Wait!” 

She stopped suddenly and turned around, gasping as she saw Misha walking towards her just a few steps away, “I think this is yours” he said as he moved closer and pressed a keycard into her hand. His skin felt warm and soft as his fingers firmly clasped around her hands but they were gone almost immediately. 

“No, I have mine,” she explained. She held two keycards and looked at the second one intently, “this isn’t my room number.” 

“What’s your name?” He asked, again staring directly into her eyes, his left eyebrow slightly raised.

“A-Andrea” she replied shakily, looking up and noticing the cut on his lip looked sore, she was almost close enough to kiss him, to feel his breath.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Andrea” Misha smiled, “I really hope we will bump into each other again!” With a smile and a wink, he turned around and walked purposefully back to the elevator, leaving a bewildered Andrea standing alone outside her room, turning the keycard over in her hands. On it, in thick black pen, was a handwritten letter M and a small heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Misha sat in his suite, a chilled bottle of mineral water hanging carelessly from his shapely fingers as he looked absentmindedly out the window, across the city and onwards to a distant point over the horizon. He had called room service as soon as he got to his room and ordered a pot of tea and a chicken sandwich. After a quick shower to freshen up, he had phoned home to speak to his family while he waited for his food. His wife seemed preoccupied as usual, but at least his children were happy to hear their father’s voice; excitedly telling him about their day. He joked with them a while, told them he loved them, then said goodbye. Vicki was having friends over that evening and Misha wondered, somewhat cynically, if one of them would spend the night. 

Misha enjoyed the quiet and solitude of the room; a modern, luxurious sanctuary of dark woods, pale walls and plush, chocolate furnishings. His warm, blue eyes idly followed an airplane overhead until it disappeared into the clouds then he checked his watch: it was 2:30pm. His photo ops had originally been scheduled for 1:30pm, but they had been postponed thanks to some dumbfuck on a motorcycle. At least nobody was hurt he thought, as he ran his tongue listlessly over the cut on his plump lip. As much as he hated letting people down, things could have been far worse. His panel was originally due to start at 3pm, but it would now be a little later. At least it shouldn’t run over too much. His photos were now rescheduled so he’d be doing some at 5pm today then some more tomorrow lunchtime. 

A muffled knock at the door pulled him abruptly from his reflection. Putting his bottle on the dark wood coffee table, Misha jumped off the couch, fastened his dressing gown round him and opened the door. After taking his food and handing over a generous tip, he closed the door gently behind the waiter and settled down with his meal. The sandwich really was incredibly good; fresh ciabatta roll, succulent chicken, crisp lettuce and juicy tomatoes, with a pile of hot, golden fries. It was only then that he remembered he hadn’t eaten for about six hours and was ravenous! After devouring his meal, he poured himself a cup of English Breakfast tea and settled back on the couch to enjoy it. 

Pushing any thoughts of his wife out of his head, because God knows she wouldn’t be thinking about him, his mind wandered to the woman he’d met briefly in the lift; Andrea. He couldn’t say exactly what it was about her that enthralled him, but there was definitely something intoxicating about her. Maybe it was the way she lowered her eyes submissively when he looked at her; innocent and unintentionally coquettish. Or perhaps it was the way her eyes sparkled seductively when she smiled. And she blushed, that was so cute! 

He wondered if he would see her again. He truly hoped he would. Giving her his spare keycard was reckless and he hoped he hadn’t frightened her by being so forward. She did seem quite timid, but he was fascinated by her.

Also, Misha was horny. He hadn’t had sex in over a month and now he was getting a boner. His hand snaked underneath his dressing gown to stroke his swelling cock, a subtle tremor of pleasure pulsing through his veins. 

_He imagines Andrea on her knees, one hand holding onto his tanned, muscular thigh, the other between her parted legs, her fingers circling over her engorged labia and clit. Her luscious lips envelope his aching dick. She looks up at him longingly, almost pleading, before closing her eyes and, with a soft moan, takes his entire length as she plunges two fingers inside her soaking pussy. He looks down at her and groans at the debauched sight before him; her mouth hot and inviting, lipstick smeared, her expert tongue caressing him, his dick hot and wet with her saliva. She sucks harder now, feverishly, such a good girl. His right hand is on the back of her head, his fingers fisting her hair, pulling her towards him as he gently rocks forward, the sensitive tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat… ___

An alarm sounds. What the f…? 

Misha’s eyes snap open, his heart is pounding. He’s still sitting on the couch, hard-on in hand, and his iPhone is letting him know the time is 3:15pm. He’s late and should be on his way to the panel any moment now.

With a curse and a disappointed sigh, and one firm and final squeeze around his swollen shaft, Misha stood up, willed his hard on to fuck off and padded over to his suitcase. He hadn’t had time to unpack yet - he would do that later - but he picked out a pair of black jeans and a red t-shirt then called his security to let them know he’d be leaving in five minutes. Misha quickly brushed his teeth, sprayed under his arms, got dressed and applied a little Vaseline to the cut on his lip, which was thankfully barely visible now. After combing his fingers hurriedly through his hair, he put on his soft leather jacket and joined the guards outside his suite for the short walk to the panel.


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours later, after a hilarious panel in which Misha had had everyone crying with laughter, Andrea found herself back in the queue for his photo op. Again she found herself lost in her thoughts; this time she reflected on her previous encounter with him. He really was exceptionally beautiful: tall, fit and toned, with a stunning jawline with the slightest hint of masculine stubble. His eyes were an amazing shade of blue, like looking up at the sun from under the ocean or looking at the planet Earth from the surface of the moon. His hair was a soft, chocolate brown, ever so slightly tousled and just begging to be touched. 

This man, this perfect, breathtaking man had touched her! He had spoken to her, smiled at her and looked into her eyes which such an overwhelming intensity that she had looked away, feeling so unworthy of his attention. He is like this with everyone, Andrea told herself. Although she knew he was far from unkind, she realised that him giving her his keycard was just a simple flirtation and nothing more. The reality and disappointment weighed heavy on her shoulders, and she gave a soft sigh. “Stop being ridiculous!” she scolded herself, shaking off the brief melancholy.

Slowly the queue moved forward and she was finally able to catch glimpses of her idol through the crowd. Misha truly was a beautiful man. She saw he was wearing the same supple, black, leather jacket as earlier with a red t-shirt underneath and he looked so good. The snug fit of his black jeans accentuated his crotch, narrow hips and long, muscular thighs, making Andrea’s stomach gave a small flip as her breath hitched. 

She found herself watching him attentively, studying the way he moved, his mannerisms such as raising his eyebrows during the photos and how his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. She observed the way he acted as one after another of his adoring fans hugged him and posed with him. He was very professional, nodding and looking at the camera and doing whatever was asked of him. At one point a small, tired looking boy, who was dressed as Castiel, walked up to him. Misha’s face lit up and he hoisted the child up onto his shoulders, a wide grin on both their faces. Once the boy had given him a big hug and walked away, Misha returned to his calm, focussed self.

All too soon there were only about 30 people in front of her. She felt a sudden wave of panic wash over her. What would she say to him? Would he recognise her as the woman from the elevator? She felt her heart thump against her chest. Breathe… 

She ran the palms of her hands over her blue jeans and fussed with her black, halterneck top. 

Andrea had decided on a simple hug for her photo op, as she was far too shy to ask for an elaborate pose, especially with so many people looking on.

20 people in front of her now, expressions varying between happy and smiling to nervous and worried. One by one they handed their tickets to the marshal and stepped forward. The queue was moving too quickly!

The next girl took one look at the stunning man in front of her and froze. She looked around frantically, maybe for an escape route, but Misha gave her the sweetest smile and gently beckoned her forward, then spent a few moments reassuring her. They both looked at the camera and the girl held on tight to him, visibly shaking, her face pressed firmly into his chest as he hugged her tightly. There was a soft ripple of laughter from everyone as she walked away with a huge grin on her face and gave a squeal of delight.

10 people… She couldn’t do this. He was too beautiful, too perfect. She was frightened and embarrassed, hot and dizzy. Her heart was pounding, her hands felt clammy so she wiped her palms on her jeans again.

And then there was only one person left in front of her. Andrea closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, forcing her heartbeat to settle. In one minute it would all be over, she could do this.

“Excuse me, ma’am, it’s your turn” said a voice in front of her. She opened her eyes, absentmindedly passed her ticket to the marshal and, exhaling deeply, walked slowly towards Misha.

He turned his head to greet the next person and hesitated, caught off guard. A split-second of recognition flashed across his face as he broke into a huge, spontaneous smile, his eyes creasing at the corners, making her heart skip a beat. Misha grasped her hand eagerly and pulled her close.

  

_Time appeared to stand still. The noise of the crowd faded until the only sounds Andrea could hear were her rapid breathing and the rush of blood pulsating in her ears. His left hand moved purposefully down her back then came to rest at the base of her spine, sending tingles of pleasure over Andrea’s skin. Misha felt solid and warm as her arms slipped under his jacket and around his firm torso. She sensed sweet spice, leather, heat, muscle, a second heartbeat._

_Misha’s right hand gently pushed a strand of hair away from her face then she felt his soft breath on her ear. “Hello, Andrea,” he whispered, his lips lightly skimming her skin, “it’s so good to see you again.” Goosebumps prickled her skin as his voice sent a jolt of desire down her body. His shapely fingers caressed her neck and throat, eliciting a gasp from her lips before he tilted her chin upwards. She could do nothing except surrender and meet his gaze. Bright blue irises ringed his dilated pupils. He looked down into her eyes, searching, staring, wanting. His full, exquisite lips slightly parted as he inhaled sharply._

One second passed, two seconds. There was a flash then Misha abruptly let her go, the immediate feeling of emptiness and loss was almost tangible. Andrea quickly came to her senses: the photo had been taken, it was over and she had to go. The next person was waiting.

She distractedly thanked him as he moved back to let her pass. Making to leave, Andrea suddenly felt a firm hand grasp her forearm. She focussed on the hand, then up at Misha who was holding her fast. Almost freezing on the spot, she saw his smile had disappeared and his visage was now serious: one eyebrow slightly raised in a mock display of dominance, “Come to me at eight,” he said quietly, staring straight into her eyes, then he smiled, winked and let go, before greeting the next person in the queue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, things are starting to happen. About bloody time!
> 
> I wanted to get this posted before Gishwhes starts (in 13 hours - oh hell!) ... I will start the next chapter in a week or two.
> 
> Hope this is okay x

Andrea sat on the edge of the bed staring blankly at the mirror in front of her. Her palms scrunched the quilt nervously as she took controlled, shallow breaths. She felt sick and jittery as she looked at her watch for the fifth time that minute: 7:48pm. Oh God, what the Hell was she thinking? She stood up and walked around her hotel room, the palm of her hand rubbing her neck anxiously. It was too early to leave – if she actually went through with it. Andrea had managed to eat half a sandwich, showered and changed into a simple black dress, done her hair and make-up and made sure she was wearing clean underwear, ‘just in case’. The notion that HE may even see her underwear later made her laugh anxiously. “Shit!” she cursed softly to herself and sat back down on her bed, wringing her hands together. 

What if she had got this all wrong? Misha could have anyone! She sighed and looked at her watch: 7:51pm. Shit! Palpitations reverberated through her ribcage and the nausea took hold. She took a couple of sips of water from a bottle on the bedside cabinet then wiggled her feet, closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose. Then it dawned on her; of course it may not be just him and her, he could be throwing a party and would have invited other people. Part of her was relieved by this idea but, of course, she would also be a little disappointed. The thought of spending her last night with Misha, the man who she visualized in every one of her fantasies, absolutely turned her on, but she berated herself for being so ridiculous. Another glance at her watch told her it was 7:54pm. With a quick glimpse in the mirror, she picked up her purse, slipped on her shoes and, checking she had both keycards, left her room. 

Andrea waited for the elevator, rocking from her heels to her toes, her fingers anxiously tapping an unknown rhythm on her tightly crossed arms. Stepping into the lift she pressed for the seventh floor and waited. A few moments later she left the confines of the elevator and headed down the corridor towards Misha’s room. Once Andrea reached his door she hesitated, still unsure and apprehensive, but she longed to see him again. After a long pause she gently knocked and held her breath. 

Nothing could have prepared her for Misha opening the door dressed head to toe in full Castiel gear. She gasped audibly as she took in the trench coat, white shirt and blue tie and her heart lurched with desire as she noticed he was looking at her with an awkward smile, head inquisitively tilted to one side, lips slightly parted and his hair gloriously messy. 

“Oh God!” she exclaimed, blushing furiously, trying her hardest not to think about all the times she had lusted after Misha’s gravel-voiced character when she was in bed alone.

“I’m so sorry,” laughed Misha, as he smoothed his hands down the trench coat, almost sounding embarrassed, “I got asked to wear this to judge some cosplay and it overran, I’ve only been back a couple of minutes. I honestly don’t entertain like this!” 

“I like it!” giggled Andrea, unable to stop herself staring at the luscious sight before her, “Please don’t apologize.” An awkward silence fell between them. 

She couldn’t stop looking at him; she was mesmerized by his sex-hair and plump, kissable lips, his chiseled jawline which led down to his delectable, smooth throat. The brooding, blue stare that pierced her soul searched for permission to an unspoken question. Andrea couldn’t keep eye contact any longer. His stare was so intense she wanted to cry out for him to stop, it wasn’t fair that he was having such an effect on her. Her heart was racing and she felt an exquisite ache between her thighs; he was so beautiful, so sensual, so… fucking hot.

Misha moved forward, watching Andrea intently with her gaze so obediently lowered. This intoxicating woman had enchanted him; he so desperately wanted her; wanted to touch her, taste her, feel her hot and tight around his swollen dick. He put his hands on her shoulders and moved closer so he could feel the heat of her body then moved one hand slowly to the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her soft, wavy hair. His other hand moved possessively downwards to the small of her back and pulled her close to him. Andrea shuddered happily at his touch, her breathing rapid. Her purse dropped to the floor as she cautiously moved her hands under his trench coat and suit jacket, then placed them on his hips, gliding her thumbs over the perfectly defined hip bones beneath his crisp, white shirt. Placing her head on his chest she felt his heart beating quickly. None of this seemed real, it was as if she had been transported to the best dream she had ever had!

Misha bent down, tilted Andrea’s head upwards and gently brushed his lips against hers. His lips were full and warm, slightly dry yet beautifully soft. She sighed into his kiss, so tender and gentle, almost hesitant. Feather light touches, slow and sweet. He held her close, their bodies pressing together as the kisses became firmer; his warm tongue lightly sweeping against hers. Misha’s hand moved down and softly caressed her ass cheek, sending delicious tingles up her spine.

Their kisses became more eager, their tongues entwined and breathes came in hurried gasps. Misha pulled away for a split second to catch his breath but Andrea needed more. Driven by overpowering lust she grabbed his tie and tugged him close as her other hand raked through his hair, pulling and twisting, as their mouths crashed together, tongues searching. Misha moaned as he felt the gentle tingle in his cock as it began to harden against the fly of his trousers, but he was desperate for more pressure.

He gripped Andrea tight and, in one swift movement, lifted her up and pressed her firmly against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her long legs around his waist as he ran his hands up her smooth thighs and rutted against her, the delicious warmth and contact on his swelling shaft giving a small amount of satisfaction. They kissed frantically, all tongues and teeth and saliva, moaning with want and need. 

“We should get on the bed,” gasped Misha between kisses, his lips swollen and moist, and he lowered Andrea to the floor. Holding her hand, he led the way to the bed, kicked off his shoes, shucked off his coat and jacket and removed his tie. Andrea kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed, squeezing her thighs together as she watched Misha remove his clothes. Her vagina contracted deliciously as she admired his toned, tanned body and muscular arms. 

He glanced at her and smiled; she looked so alluring and dishevelled. His cock was throbbing and he wanted to fuck her right now, but he had plans for her. “So,” he said, deep and gravelly, sending a bolt of arousal straight to her pussy, “what do you like?”

She craved him so much and wanted to give him everything she could, please him in every way imaginable; she wanted to kiss every sensual inch of his glorious body, smell his skin, lick him, suck him and watch his face as he got closer and closer to orgasm. “I-I-I don’t know,” she stammered breathily, suddenly timid, unable to voice her salacious desires, “What about you?”

Misha stared at her, giving her a lustful eyefuck to rival Castiel’s, then moved in front of her, tilted her chin upwards and looked down at her dominantly.

“I like to be obeyed,” he told her, darkly. He huffed at Andrea’s lascivious gasp, noticing how her pupils dilated, “but I also find it very satisfying making women come.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit rude, this one.  
> #SorryNotSorry

Misha stood bare footed in front of Andrea and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He studied her intently as she sat on the end of the bed, avoiding the obviously bulge directly in front of her face. He dropped his shirt to the floor then ran his fingers gently across her cheek.

“Tell me what you want,” he spoke softly, tilting her head upwards so he could read her face. He stroked his thumb across her lips, “I need to know.”

Andrea blushed furiously and looked down at her feet. She was a ‘nice girl’, so found it impossible to reveal to him the wanton desires inside her head. She ached to feel him deep inside her, to taste him, touch him, look into his eyes as he pinned her down and fucked her. Although she was filled with such overpowering lust, she lacked experience and confidence, and was way out of her comfort zone. 

Yet here she was: in the hotel room of the most beautiful, sexually confident, amazing man she had ever seen and he was standing in front of her, half-dressed and visibly horny. Sex was guaranteed and she would never get this opportunity again. Andrea sighed and told herself to get a grip as she really wanted this.

She nervously bit her lip and looked upwards, taking in the full view of the stunning man. His hip bones poked out from his waistband, the contours of his muscles pointing seductively downwards towards his erection, his toned body was, in all honestly, perfect. He was fit and muscular with strong biceps, heavenly thick thighs, smooth tanned skin and his sculptured torso had tantalisingly dark nipples; a lone freckle over his right one. His delectable collarbone, throat and neck led up to his chiselled jawline and then Andrea noticed his luscious lips were smiling down at her. 

Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she would not have been surprised if Misha could hear it. “Fuck it!” she exclaimed suddenly, exasperated at her own nervousness, “Do you have anything to drink?!”

Misha chuckled, “Sure!” and went over to the mini bar, opened the door and peered inside at the array of miniature bottles, “we have vodka, wine, gin, whiskey, beer, water and soft drinks…” he looked over at her expectantly. 

“Vodka, please,” replied Andrea, taking her eyes off his ass which she had been surreptitiously checking out, then she slid off the bed and padded over towards Misha as he twisted the lids off two bottles. He tilted his head backwards and emptied the contents of one bottle into his mouth. Andrea watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, then chuckled as he screwed his face up at the taste. 

She went to take the second small bottle from him, but he held onto it, a playful smirk on his face and his beautiful blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Do you trust me?” he asked as he bent down and picked up his blue tie.

Andrea contemplated this question for the briefest of moments, her eyes darting to the tie in Misha’s hand then quickly confirmed “Of course!”

“Close your eyes…” She complied immediately without hesitation then waited. The room was so quiet, not a sound could be heard from outside, then she felt the glorious heat of Misha as he closed in on her, not touching her, but so teasingly close.

“So obedient,” he snickered appreciatively into her ear then he blindfolded her, secured it gently and checked it wasn’t too tight. “Is this okay?”

Andrea smiled and nodded, then felt the cold bottle between her lips. Misha carefully allowed the liquid to trickle into her mouth as he supported her head. Andrea swallowed it all and exhaled deeply as the vodka’s heat burned her throat then settled in her stomach, its calming warmth radiating outwards. 

She sensed Misha walking slowly around her and was aware of his steady breathing; felt his warm hand brush sensuously down her back. He caressed her neck, kissed it tenderly then moved across to her shoulder and down her arm. Her skin seemed to tingle wherever his fingers touched her, goosebumps forming on her flesh with the slightest contact. Misha stepped back and Andrea felt the cold absence of his touch immediately. She wanted, needed his hands on her body; craved it. 

“Take your dress off,” Misha instructed in a low voice. Andrea could tell he was smiling as he spoke to her, and was getting off on this just as much as she was, but she obeyed him and slowly removed her dress, letting it slide to the floor and kicking it away. Standing there blindfolded in just her silky, black underwear she felt exposed, excited, empowered. 

Misha stared longingly at Andrea and pressed the palm of his hand firmly against his crotch, desperate for some relief. He promised his dick it would have some proper stimulation soon, but first he wanted to give this enchanting lady her first orgasm of the evening. 

 

He stood behind Andrea, undid the clasp of her bra and dropped the garment onto the floor, then rested his hands on her hips. She felt his hot skin on her back and his erection pressing against her; she wanted so much to touch him, but she wanted to please him. Although she felt completely safe, it was almost as if he commanded respect and the feeling excited her. 

His fingertips continued on their journey: one hand lightly stroked across Andrea’s smooth stomach then moved upwards. Misha cupped her breast as he began to kiss her neck, then thumbed slowly around her hardened nipple before giving it a firm pinch, causing Andrea to suck in her breath. But she remained still, eyes closed and skin prickling with anticipation. Her nipple felt hot from where he had pinched it, more shock than pain, and it felt good.

As Misha continued to kiss her neck and roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand moved downwards. He had her pulled close into him, trapped in his strong arms and pinned to his chest. She couldn’t escape even if she wanted to! Misha’s hand slid over her knickers and stroked between her thighs, the pressure on her clit making her moan out in pleasure. Instinctively her head fell back on him and she brought one arm up to curl behind his neck, holding onto him as his slender fingers caressed her.

“Hmmm,” murmured Misha, nuzzling her ear as he continued to stroke her through the smooth fabric, “I guess you like that!” Andrea moaned her agreement then giggled. The vodka had certainly calmed her nerves and now she could concentrate on the pleasure. After a few more exquisite touches, each one eliciting a soft gasp, Misha let go and pulled her onto to the huge bed.

 

They laid there with their legs tangled together, Misha’s slender fingers held Andrea’s jaw possessively as he kissed her, his lips and tongue claiming hers. His technique was amazing, alternating between soft, dry, almost chaste kisses, then more deliberate; deep and slow and hot, tongues entwined. Occasionally he would nip and suck her lower lip as he pressed himself against her, groaning quietly into her mouth, then he would go back to soft and gentle kisses.

Andrea ran her hands over his body guided only by touch, amazed at how firm he was. She could feel his muscles flex under his skin and he smelled intoxicating: expensive scent mixed with heat and sex. Misha shifted on the bed then propped himself up on one elbow, removed her blindfold and brushed her hair away from her face. His free hand caressed her throat, breasts, stomach, over her hips and thighs, never quite reaching where she needed contact.

Misha gave Andrea a final kiss then changed position so he was above her. Still kissing her neck and chest, he moved to her breasts, tongue circling around her sensitive nipples, sucking, slurping and sending pulses of pleasure between her legs. He looked up at her seductively through half lidded eyes, gave her a dangerous smile and carried on downwards. His hands stroked over her ribs, smoothed down her sides, still kissing her warm skin as he moved languidly further down. He looked up again as Andrea lifted herself up on her elbows to watch him. She blushed and smiled, almost apprehensive but too aroused for shyness.

He smiled back then closed his eyes as he descend further, kissing her stomach, swirling his moist tongue in her belly button, which made her giggle, then he kissed along the waistband of her knickers, from one hip to the other, soft and slow, teased a moan from her parted lips and she watched him, panting with desire and want.

Misha ran his hands up her thighs, kissing the soft flesh at the top. So close! Andrea’s clit throbbed with the need to be touched. She spread her legs wide and willed him to touch her where she ached. Misha knew how desperate she had become, her breathing had become rapid and she the bed covers were scrunched in her fists. Looking up again he saw how dark her eyes were, pupils blown with lust, staring at him, almost frowning, mouth open, chest rising and falling in gasps. He kissed the insides of her thighs again, so close to her heat that it could drive her mad with desire.

Then he hooked his fingers inside her knickers and pulled them down, the cool air almost a shock to her red hot skin. Misha stared up at Andrea, his eyes also dark with lust, also breathing heavily, as he took in her glorious scent; pure woman and lust and want. He watched her chest rise and fall, her expression almost pleading then, without breaking eye contact, he gently brushed his fingers over her, fascinated at how hot and wet she had become.

Andrea cried out at his touch, finally grateful for the much-needed contact. She instinctively bucked her hips as he closed his eyes, lowered his head and slowly swept his tongue over her labia. He probed and licked, sucked her swollen lips, sank his tongue deep inside her and relished the taste of her arousal. Again and again he would slide his long tongue up and down between her swollen folds, drawing out moans and gasps, pressing over her sensitive clit.

She fell back on the pillow with a small cry of pleasure as he began to flick his tongue over the engorged nub, circled around it, first one way then the other, pushed her thighs apart, spread her wide open. Misha worked his tongue hard inside her aching cunt again and again, drew out cries of pleasure, almost sobs of joy. He loved the sounds she made, the way she writhed on the bed fisting the bed sheets or pulled his hair, arched her back and tilted her hips upwards to get more pressure.

Then Misha’s long, slender fingers were at her entrance. The tips stroked her vulva, teased her, made her moan with need as he slipped them inside just a fraction then pulled out. He pushed himself up, his thumb in place of where his tongue was, his face glistening with her heady juices. Gently he rubbed her clit and applied more friction than his tongue could give, then he slid two fingers deep inside her, the walls of her vagina automatically contracting around them.

Andrea cried out as his fingers penetrated her, the delicious ache increasing as he slid them in and out and rubbed her throbbing clitoris. She couldn’t think straight, pushed down on him, her synapses firing in ecstasy as he finger fucked her, then curled them upwards, hitting her g-spot. The pressure built inside her, the sheen of sweat visible on her skin as she panted and moaned wildly.

Misha was so hard. He really got off on making women like this; the power and control as they came undone all thanks to him. If his career ever went to shit he could always do this, would be happy to. He gently pressed down on her pubic bone to steady her and felt her tighten around his fingers. She was so wonderfully hot, wet and tight, her g-spot raised and slightly rough to the touch. Her clit was hard as he continued to rub his thumb over it, amazed at how such a tiny thing could create such pleasure.

Andrea wasn’t really aware of anything anymore, other than sounds and sensations, such intense sensations. Her clit throbbed, her heart pounded. She was so hot. He pussy felt exquisite and tight, there was a build-up of pressure somewhere inside. Sweet friction, she couldn’t move. Her skin prickled, oh God everything tingled from her feet to her face and everywhere in between, white noise and then suddenly she’s coming. Coming hard. She cried out for Misha, reached out to him as wave after wave after wave hit her. Her eyes clamped shut and her back arched as he rubbed and stroked her through her mind blowing orgasm. He felt her powerful muscles pulsate around his fingers and a satisfying trickle of cum on his hand.

Her body shuddered briefly afterwards as she lay there, unable to do anything other than murmur happily and wait for her breathing to regulate. Misha withdrew his fingers and sucked them clean – she tasted so fucking good – then he crawled next to her, moved her onto her side and cuddled up behind her. He pulled the quilt over her to keep her warm, stroked her arm and nuzzled into her neck.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, “sleep for a while, you’ll need your strength.”, but Andrea never heard him as she had already fallen asleep in his arms.


End file.
